


The Kissing Booth

by breathtaken



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Feelings Realization, Kissing, Kissing Booths, M/M, Not Quite Platonic, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: “How many people here think you’re married to your wife and how many think you’re married to me?”





	The Kissing Booth

**Author's Note:**

> When you find out Whitney Moore had a kissing booth at her wedding and it gives you ideas. Thank you as ever to the secret fort for their enthusiasm.
> 
> As usual, don't share this; let's keep it exclusively for the people who came looking for it.

**** _ Hey, do you want to be my plus one for Mark’s wedding? It’s on the 27th _

_ Q finally had enough of you? _ Liam texts back, and, _ Who even is Mark _

_ Disney Mark. Open bar. Q’s in Seattle _

_ OK, but if I catch the bouquet I’ll expect you to make an honest man of me _

* * *

It’s been a beautiful day at Disney Mark’s wedding. The sun shone right up until the moment it set, Mark and his new husband looked positively radiant throughout, and Liam barely even knows the guy but there was a tear in his eye all the same as they stood together under the awning and pledged to love each other all their lives.

He’s counted at least five people so far who think he and Sam are an actual couple, which is a little weird but mostly funny, and they’ve been having a great deal of fun not correcting any of them.

They’ve drunk and slow danced and drunk some more, and Liam is pretty sure he’s gonna be hungover tomorrow, but sometimes it’s worth it.

They’re weaving their way through groups of people in the slightly-quieter-socializing room on their way back to the bar, Sam’s arm around his shoulders and his arm around Sam’s waist, when they almost collide with two other guys just leaving the kissing booth, which is apparently a thing people have at weddings these days.

Everyone apologizes, of course, and then Sam grins and says, “They didn’t have these things when we got hitched,” because of course he’s enjoying this as much as Liam is, if not more.

“How long have you been together?” one of them asks – Josh, Liam thinks, he remembers talking to them earlier, though the details are kinda hazy and he hopes to God he’s not in the industry, because whatever people think of the Sam-and-Liam show (and he knows full well they think all sorts of things), ‘actually pretended to be married to each other for a laugh’ is not really the sort of reputation he wants.

He’s tuned out, he realizes as Sam says, “Our turn!” with a shit-eating grin and bundles Liam into the kissing booth, which is little more than a painted plywood box bedecked with its own weight in fairy lights, and a heavy crimson velvet curtain.

Liam kisses him before he’s even had time to draw the curtain, because why would he not.

He likes kissing Sam. There aren’t many things that make him get all awkward and blushy, but that never fails to do it.

He asks, “How many people here think you’re married to your wife and how many think you’re married to me?”

Sam shrugs. “Fifty-fifty?”

Liam laughs, unable to help it. “We probably shouldn’t actually tell people we’re together as a joke.” When Sam just looks adorably confused, he explains, “The issue being the joke part, of course. Not the together part.”

“Oh.” Sam looks briefly abashed. “Yeah. I guess that’s a little insensitive at an actual gay wedding.” Then he grins again. “Though an entire room full of people did just watch you kiss me, so now they probably think we’re in an open relationship.”

“How very Californian of us,” Liam says dryly. “Also, who gives a shit.”

There have been times over the years where he’s worried that Sam just might; Liam’s fierce in the defense of his right to be physically affectionate with the people he loves, which dovetails neatly with his love of pushing Sam’s buttons. 

But Sam has always been admirably sanguine about the whole thing, which is a large part of the reason Liam loves him so much.

“Anyone who’s seen you in that tux will understand.”

Liam laughs awkwardly, adjusting his cuff. “You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.” Which is the understatement of the night, of course; Sam looks good enough to eat.

“Well, I think we’ve been in here long enough for it to be believable.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking you brought me in here to kiss me.”

When Sam grins it’s a little bashful, and Liam fancies he might be blushing a bit as he steps forward and pecks him on the lips. “There.”

“Was that it?” Liam asks – and he _ shouldn’t, _ he knows full well that there’s a line here somewhere, but he’s drunk and a little giddy and really Sam looks _ incredibly _good here, all dressed up under the soft lights, and perhaps he has more reasons than one for wanting to push his buttons.

“Tricky customer, huh,” Sam replies, and this time there are gentle hands on his jaw and Liam’s own hands land on Sam’s waist just as Sam’s lips meet his again, slow and gentle and lingering, and when he opens his mouth Liam slips him a little tongue because he doesn’t know if he’ll get the chance again.

“Whew,” Sam says as he pulls away, somehow breathless even though the kiss lasted a couple seconds at most, and as Liam looks at him he realizes everything’s gone soft and slightly unreal around the edges. “I’ve never done that before.”

Liam knew that already. “I have,” he says, which Sam also already knew. “But you’re better.”

“I’m your husband, I should hope so,” Sam says, but there’s something a little manic in his eyes – and Liam _ knew _he shouldn’t have done what he did and yet he did it anyway, and now he has to do damage control.

He lets go of Sam’s waist.

“Are you having an awakening on me?” he says, and then, “Sorry. I’ve made it weird.”

“_I’m _ the one who kissed _ you._”

“Because I put you up to it.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” Sam retorts, and then sighs and runs a hand over his face as Liam gapes at him for just a moment, before he gets his expression back under control. “I’m gonna need a drink for this conversation.”

“I’m buying,” Liam says, and grabs his hand.

Sam snorts. “No you’re not,” he says as Liam pulls back the curtain, and holds his hand all the way to the bar.

Liam gets them both scotch, because this feels like it’s gonna be a scotch kind of conversation, and they find a secluded spot out in the garden where there’s a low wall to sit on. It’s dark out, and still warm, but the sky’s got that murky orange city tint to it that always makes him miss the stars.

“I didn’t mean to push,” he says, because he knows he’s the one that needs to start this off. “No, that’s a lie. I _ did _ mean to push. But I’m normally better-behaved.”

Sam knows, he thinks, how he feels. They’ve talked about it, kind of, in that oblique, joking-but-not way they have that keeps things bearable.

“Yeah. I was curious,” Sam admits, sloshing the liquid around in his glass, not looking at Liam. “And you were – the outlet for my curiosity.”

Liam shrugs, a little helplessly. “Far be it from me to have a problem with that.” And just in case Sam isn’t actually following as closely as he’s been assuming: “I mean, that’s mutual. Not that it isn’t real too, but. You know?”

But he’s always liked to imagine there’s another version of them in a parallel universe somewhere, who are growing old together and having lots of sex. A version of himself who closed different doors, and left others open.

“You love me, but I’m also the boyfriend experience,” Sam summarizes, and – well. Yeah. “Are you _ in _ love with me? Since we’re doing this and all.”

“No… I think? I did have a crush at one point,” Liam admits, feeling the tips of his ears starting to burn and wondering if he can get away with blaming it on the whisky. “I mean, it was a while ago.”

“Knew it,” Sam says, putting his hand on Liam’s thigh and squeezing, never having sounded so pleased about anything.

“Seriously?” Liam demands, more put out than he’d like to admit. “You never said a word.”

“Neither did you,” Sam points out. “And you were my best friend. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Sam’s hand is still on his leg, and Liam leans in against him, putting a hand around his waist, under his tux jacket.

“Maybe it’s a little bit yes, a little bit no. It’s like picking a sexuality label. I don’t really see the point in answering the question, when it’s not gonna change anything either way.”

“No,” Sam agrees, resting his head against Liam’s. “Tell you a secret, though?” His voice drops to a whisper. “I did like kissing you.”

Liam makes himself laugh. “I thought you were supposed to be the straight one.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” Sam’s fingers are gripping his thigh just a little too tightly, Liam realizes. “But like you said. It’s not gonna change anything. And I think the sex would be weird.”

Liam snorts. “With you? Never.”

“If there _ is _ something… then I don’t think it’s guys, plural. I think it’s just you.”

“I’m gonna put that on my resume. Under ‘special skills’.”

Sam gives a put-upon sigh. “Do you ever stop wisecracking? I’m trying to talk about my feelings here.”

“You know I don’t,” Liam tells him. “And you’re doing very well despite it.”

There’s more he could say, but he’s already learned one lesson today about pushing things too far.

They’re strong, him and Sam, but there’s a fragile center there too.

“Anyway, feelings are messy things, and I think it’s foolish to expect them to fit in neat little boxes just because it’d be easier.”

“So a little more than platonic, a little less than full-on man-love. Got it,” Sam says, reaching for Liam’s hand. His nails are sparkly. “This conversation’s been less painful than I thought it was gonna be.”

“I only do painful if you ask _ really _ nicely,” Liam says, because Sam was foolish enough to take a drink – though he doesn’t quite get him. This time.

“How does Amy feel? About the fact you keep kissing me?”

“She’s okay with it.” Probably far more so than Liam deserves. “She was mainly concerned I was poking a bruise.”

“Were you?”

“Nah. Just pushing a button.” He’s running his thumb over Sam’s knuckles, he realizes, but he can’t think of a reason why he should stop. “What about Q?”

“Well, she thinks we’re idiots.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“But I’m gonna have to talk to her about that last one when she gets back.”

“It’ll be okay,” Liam says, because he remembers exactly how starting _ that _ conversation felt. “She’ll understand you weren’t exactly planning to have feelings at me.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighs heavily. “I still feel like a dumbass though.”

“You are a dumbass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you’re _ her _ dumbass, and you didn’t do anything once you realized. So. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, pulling Sam tight against him.

They’re both silent for a good thirty seconds, and Liam’s starting to think they’re done when Sam asks: “Do you wonder what it would have been like–?”

“Yeah. Course.” Liam squeezes his hand. “But I wouldn’t take that bet. Not even for you.”

“If both our wives die before we do, I’ll still chase your ass ’round the nursing home.”

A little too softly, Liam says, “The feeling’s mutual.”

Somewhere behind them there’s the sound of breaking glass, some scattered laughter, a brief swell in the general hum of conversation, and Liam’s reminded they’re not the only ones out here.

“Want another drink?” he asks. “Or to circulate?”

“No, and no. I’ve had more than enough to drink already, and as nice as all these people are, I don’t like any of them half as much as I like you,” Sam replies, patting Liam’s knee. “Let’s just stay here and be maudlin, yeah?”

“I don’t think you could be maudlin if you tried,” Liam tells him, and kisses his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Sam replies, as Liam tucks his head against his shoulder; Sam is warm and steady against his side, and when he looks back up at the sky he can see a few stray stars after all, twinkling just out of reach.


End file.
